


V.S.A.

by Esperata



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Planet, Angst, Camping, Corpses, Injury, M/M, Pining, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: In which Spock goes on a special mission for the Vulcan Science Academy and McCoy suffers for his love of the Vulcan.





	1. Vulcan Science Academy

“Who the hell do those Vulcan bastards think they are?!”

Jim sighed and resigned himself to the conversation. He’d perhaps naively hoped McCoy wouldn’t follow him into his quarters but when had propriety ever stopped the irascible doctor?

“Spock signed up to Starfleet not the Science Academy! This is just sour grapes.”

“Bones,” Jim interrupted with waning patience. “They’re Vulcans, not petty school children. It’s all perfectly logical.”

McCoy crossed his arms in blatant annoyance.

“Well it sure doesn’t seem logical to _me_.”

Jim refrained from pointing out that logic probably wasn’t the doctor’s strongest suit. It was clear that something about this was rankling his friend and he owed it to him to find out what.

“Vulcan is a founding member of the Federation,” he explained as plainly as he could. “As such Starfleet allowed them an all-Vulcan ship but you know what happened to the _Intrepid_.”

McCoy dropped his arms, remembering all too well.

“Yeah. I remember.”

The entire crew of 400 had perished. It was a sombre moment and Kirk allowed the memory to settle on the doctor, knowing it would dull some of his temper.

“Now if the _Intrepid_ were still with us they’d undoubtedly be given this mission but since it isn’t…”

He trailed off in the hope that McCoy would reach his own conclusion. Unfortunately he reached the wrong one.

“They’ve decided to pull on Spock’s string and get him to prove he’s a good little Vulcan.”

Jim didn’t sigh again but only because of rigorous Starfleet training in diplomatic assignments.

“They requested Starfleet assign him as a native of Vulcan acting on behalf of the Academy. It’s important to them, Bones. They don’t want to interfere with our regular assignments but they need to find out what’s going on.”

“But why Spock? Starfleet could send any number of specialists.”

“We’re close to Barradas III. As a Vulcan he already knows the background. They trust he’ll report factually and I understand his father suggested him.”

“There it is!” McCoy threw up his hands. “After 18 years of silence now his father thinks so highly of him he’s giving him special recommendations? Bullshit! He’s banking on Spock’s human side guilting him into it. Damn insulting is what it is.”

“Spock was willing to use his allocated leave to conduct this survey for the Academy-”

“Of course he damn well was!” McCoy interrupted. “Can’t you see he’s still trying to prove he’s as good as any full Vulcan?”

Jim eyed his friend cautiously. Bones was getting overly riled and the last thing Kirk wanted to do was provoke any further anger. He needed to change tactics.

“Why’s this bothering you so much?” he switched tracks and McCoy blinked as he re-evaluated his position.

“Dammit Jim. They’re asking him to go alone to a planet where who knows what’s happened! It’s one thing when the Federation does that, and I’m not saying I like it then, but he doesn’t owe those bastards anything.”

“They’re his people, Bones. And they’re asking through proper channels so it is essentially authorised by the Federation.” 

“But he could find anything down there. Plagues, pirates, parasites-”

“Or just faulty radio equipment. There’s no reason to expect the worst. They’ve lost contact that’s all.”

McCoy’s arms crossed again.

“Oh that’s all, huh? No reason to expect the worst. Don’t dare try and tell me you think its faulty wiring. No way would Vulcan lose contact with a planet because someone knocked out a cable. It’s gotta be something big.”

Bones glared at him and Jim knew when to concede.

“Okay, so it’s probably something worse than that. A political upheaval possibly. But Spock’s dealt with far worse and always come through. Saving our bacon as often as not. He’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that Jim.” For the first time, McCoy’s anger faded to be replaced by his genuine concern. “I have a real bad feeling. Can’t you order him to stay aboard? To wait for a proper team to be assembled?”

“He’s only going to reconnoitre Bones. Nobody expects him to do anything other than report on the situation and that only takes one man.”

“Jim, you don’t have to authorise it. The captain can use his discretion.”

“And if I try to do that, Spock will put in for leave and go anyway. I can’t confine him to the ship.”

“Jim-”

“Bones,” Jim cut him off. “The decision’s made. Spock’ll check out Barradas III and we’ll continue our survey.” As McCoy opened his mouth to say something else, Jim added firmly, “and that’s final.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Jim waited for McCoy to storm out but the doctor stood staring at a spot on the floor. Something else was clearly bothering the doctor.

“I’m in love with him, Jim.”

Although he heard the words clearly, it took Kirk several long seconds before he understood what had just been said.

“Damn.” Jim exhaled softly. “Bones.” His voice carried nothing but sympathy.

“You’re letting him go off alone into an unknown situation and I just know… _know_ … that something terrible is going to happen.”

Jim couldn’t reply to that. Platitudes that Spock would be fine and could take care of himself would be cruel.

“And if he doesn’t come back,” McCoy continued determinedly. “I won’t be able to stay here. I’ll transfer on or leave Starfleet or _anything_ to get away because that’s what I _do_. I left Earth after the divorce and headed to Capella after my dad died and I haven’t stayed in any place as long as I have here -” He gulped.

Jim could see that if he let himself the doctor would be in tears but the man was too stubborn for that. Suddenly blue eyes caught his with a feverish intensity.

“Let me go with him.”

“What?”

“Let me go with him,” McCoy repeated. “Surely it’s logical? Two man teams can watch out for each other. It must increase the likelihood of getting back. And if anything’s going to harm him… I want to be with him.” His jaw clenched and Jim sensed the doctor wasn’t just thinking in terms of being able to heal him.

“I’m not sure Spock will like the idea,” Jim hedged.

If McCoy was hurt by that statement he didn’t show it.

“I don’t care if the green-blooded hobgoblin likes the idea or not. Find some reason to get me included… you must be able to come up with something.”

“Bones, if there is a serious problem on Barradas III, I don’t want to risk you too.”

McCoy stared at him.

“If you lose Spock, you’ll be losing me either way Jim. I’d rather go at Spock’s side. Now you can either respect that request or you can gamble it’ll work out and that I’ll forgive you.”

Jim met the doctor’s gaze and realised he wouldn’t budge on this.

“I think you’ll improve all our odds by sending us both,” the doctor suggested more softly.

Jim nodded and saw McCoy relax ever so slightly.

“I’ll make it an order Bones. Spock may not like it but he’ll obey it.”

McCoy finally let his shoulders relax.

“Thank you Jim.”


	2. Vital Survey Assignment

McCoy adjusted the weight of the backpack on his shoulders and hoped again he’d packed everything he might possibly need. It’d been a bit of a rush since getting Jim to amend the orders so he’d be going. Chapel had helped by pulling together an emergency kit and quickly supplementing it with Vulcan hybrid compatible medicines.

They were now assembled ready for beam-down and Jim was reiterating the schedule.

“We’ll wait an hour in orbit. Hopefully you’ll have something to report in that time and we’ll be able to send any additional support you might need.”

Spock blatantly eyed the doctor stood a few paces away.

“May I again strongly object to the inclusion of Doctor McCoy on this assignment?” he requested. “It is unnecessary and may even prove detrimental.”

Jim glanced at McCoy in time to see the flicker of hurt which was quickly suppressed beneath an annoyed glare.

“You won’t be saying that if you find an epidemic down there Spock,” he snapped.

“Bones has a point,” Jim concurred. “If it’s political or mechanical or any number of things then of course Spock, you’d be quite capable of compiling a report on your own. But if they do need medical assistance then having a doctor will be vital.”

Spock did not reply and Jim took that to mean he could find no logical argument against that.

Nodding, Kirk stepped back towards the transporter controls.

“Good luck.” His eyes flashed briefly to meet McCoy’s. Despite everything, there was gratitude in the doctor’s gaze.

“Energise,” he announced and watched the two men disappear.

They rematerialized seconds later on the surface.

Spock immediately began scanning with his tricorder while the doctor glanced around to get his bearings.

They were in the middle of a rough settlement. Crude mud built houses were scattered in apparently random fashion as far as he could see. Most had fenced off areas beside them that seemed to be made for livestock of some sort.

The air was arid and the ground dry although there were trees, of a sort, spreading shade here and there.

It was eerily quiet.

McCoy jumped slightly as Spock’s communicator chirped.

“Spock here.” The Vulcan managed to answer without taking his hand or eye from his tricorder.

“Mister Spock,” Kirk’s voice announced. “First impressions?”

“I am detecting no life signs in this vicinity Captain. We shall investigate for further evidence.”

“Very well. We’ll contact you before we leave orbit in an hour for a further report. Call in if you discover anything before then. Enterprise out.”

Spock closed both communicator and tricorder and visually assessed the area.

“Doctor, I suggest we split up. I will investigate the eastern side, you should head westward. We will meet back here before the hour is up to compare findings. Contact me if you discover anything before that.”

So saying he walked away without once looking at McCoy.

“Fine,” McCoy muttered to himself as he watched the Vulcan leave. “Nice to see you aren’t huffy about having company.”

Scowling, he turned and went in his appointed direction.

He stepped inside the first dwelling and glanced round. It was as simple as he’d expected. There were niches in the walls where household items were stored, a few heaps of furs and textiles that he assumed constituted a bed, and tools for weaving scattered on the floor.

He bent down to examine them.

Although he had a vague idea of how fabrics used to be made it was not something he’d ever had any interest in. Most items he owned were replicated.

On the floor he found some soft fluff that reminded him of cotton candy which was apparently being turned into thread. He ran his fingers over the strand and marvelled at how smooth it was. He looked across to see a number of coloured threads tied in a row and being woven to presumably produce a blanket similar to those he’d seen earlier.

He wondered if it was usual for the people to leave their work out like this or whether it was a sign they’d been disturbed.

Realising that he wouldn’t find any more answers here he moved on.

It was very much the same in each subsequent hut he entered. Every hut showed signs of work interrupted. Sometimes similar woollen threads, in others silken strands, occasionally cooking that had been left long enough to spoil.

There were no people anywhere. Nor animals he realised. The pens outside clearly had held domesticated animals of one sort or another – there were droppings and stalls of a grain type feed – yet there were no animals there now.

Perhaps they’d been taken with the people, wherever they were.

He comforted himself that at least he’d not encountered any bodies but the heavy weight of dread didn’t leave his stomach as he headed back to meet Spock.

The Vulcan had arrived back first and looked to McCoy questioningly. McCoy shook his head in response.

“I don’t know Spock,” he admitted. “There’s no signs of struggle or violence. No bodies to indicate disease or death. It’s like everyone simultaneously downed tools and left.”

“While the people of Barradas are indeed nomadic,” Spock responded, “they do not leave their livelihoods behind.”

McCoy assumed he was referring to the textiles he’d found but before he could ask the communicator chirped again.

“Spock here,” the Vulcan answered it calmly.

“Anything to report?” Jim asked briefly.

“Very little. We have found no signs of violence nor any bodies Captain. It is still a mystery where the people have gone. I have ascertained the communications equipment is fully functional.”

There was a pause and McCoy knew it wasn’t the answer Jim had hoped for.

“Very well gentlemen. We’ll bid you a productive search and hopefully you’ll have your answer by the time we return for you.”

“Indeed Captain.”

“Oh and Spock? Look after Bones won’t you? Enterprise out.”

McCoy puffed up like an angry cobra.

“Of all the damned nerve!” he exclaimed. Spock eyed him speculatively but chose not to reply.

“We should move towards the next settlement,” he suggested instead.

McCoy considered refuting Jim’s implication further but decided it probably wasn’t worth it.

“How far’s that?” he asked, allowing the change of subject.

“Several days travel by tsemu.”

“Tsemu?” McCoy echoed. “What’s that?”

“A quadrupedal animal. It is similar to a Terran horse.” Spock answered briefly.

McCoy scowled, partly because Spock was still treating him like an annoyance and partly because his answer was frustratingly unhelpful.

“Mister Spock, it may have escaped your notice but there’s no damn tsemu round here. No animals of any kind.”

“I had in fact noticed Doctor. What you have failed to appreciate is that the animals may be summoned.”

“Well by all means go ahead,” McCoy replied unnecessarily sarcastically.

Spock led them away towards a particular dwelling and stooped to move inside. McCoy hesitated outside, unsure what the Vulcan was up to, but seconds later Spock emerged with two saddles slung across an arm. He then proceeded towards the perimeter of the settlement and took out his communicator. As he began making adjustments McCoy glanced around the landscape.

Although Spock had described the people as nomadic, it was clear they had a grasp of agriculture. There was a large area of some sort of wheat grass growing away to McCoy’s left. Off to the right, at a short distance, there seemed to be a rather large hut. Perhaps a temple?

“What’s that over there?”

Spock glanced up just long enough to ascertain what the doctor was indicating.

“I believe it is a granary.” He returned his attention to retuning the communicator.

McCoy nodded to himself, unable to tear his thoughts away from the larger than average building.

“It’d be empty this time of year, yeah?”

Spock looked up again, this time casting a brief glance over the field of wheat.

“I would believe so.”

McCoy bounced thoughtfully.

“Large enough space for all the people, I should think.”

Spock finally looked at him.

“What reason would they have for congregating in the granary?” he enquired.

“Well, I don’t know Spock. Some folk like to gather together when they feel threatened. ‘Specially by something unknown. It’s a possibility isn’t it?”

Spock looked over towards the granary, obviously calculating possibilities. Finally he nodded.

“It would be illogical to ignore the chance, however remote, when we lose so little by doing so.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow at him.

“No harm in being thorough,” he said a mite defensively as both men set off towards the building.

The truth was that something about the granary was unsettling Leonard, although he couldn’t have said what. The first real sign that something was amiss came quite subtly with a widening of Spock’s nostrils.

“Doctor, perhaps I should approach first.”

That set the faint bells off into alarms and McCoy set his jaw stubbornly.

“No way. If something’s over there then we stand a better chance overpowering it together.”

And he stalked determinedly forwards. It was only a few paces further before he recognised the scent that Spock had picked up already.

As a doctor, it was an odour he was unfortunately very familiar with.

He hesitated.

“Doctor, I can continue alone. I do not believe there is any danger.”

McCoy glared at him. The damn Vulcan was still treating him like a useless appendage.

“I am a doctor, Mister Spock. There’s nothing over there to phase me. I do have a measure of professional detachment you know.”

And so saying he walked straight to the large barn door and hauled it open.

The stench almost made him reel. Spock joined him, clearly distressed by the overpowering smell of rot and decay but doing his best to hide it.

McCoy took a second to swallow down his stomach, before saying.

“Do you think this is all of them?”

The floor before them was literally littered with dead bodies. It was unclear at first glance what had killed them and Bones briefly worried about contagion before realising he and Spock had already spent an hour poking through their things.

His eye ran professionally over the group, hesitating briefly over the smaller forms of the children but passing on relentlessly.

“It is hard to be sure,” Spock answered, his voice sounding fainter than usual. Or perhaps Bones imagined that. “I will conduct a count of the victims.”

McCoy nodded and unslung his own tricorder. He had to focus now. Be a doctor.

He stepped closer and knelt beside the nearest body. It was unfortunate that he had little knowledge of the Barradasians, he reflected, since he couldn’t tell if there were any visual anomalies. A quick glance across the other figures showed the same colouration on all of them. It seemed unusually pale for a nomadic dessert tribe but he’d encountered stranger anomalies.

Luckily Spock had transferred his own files on the people to McCoy so he quickly made sure his tricorder was calibrated for their vital statistics and began scanning.

The cause of death was immediately apparent although he wished it weren’t.

“Spock,” his voice sounded flat. “These people have been drained of their red corpuscles.” He looked up and met the First Officer’s gaze. “How many things do you know that’ll do that?”

Spock didn’t answer immediately. He let his gaze sweep about the room.

“Given the situation we find these people in, I would have to speculate on only one likely possibility.”

“The di-kironium cloud,” McCoy supplied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I get for watching David Attenborough's "Tribal Eye"


	3. Valuable Shared Advice

There was no indication that the cloud creature was still present and, as Spock pointed out, no logical reason for it to remain since its food supply had been exhausted. McCoy muttered about it maybe hanging around to digest its meal but he wasn’t inclined to dispute the point with the Vulcan.

Instead he made sure to walk around the entirety of the barn, scanning every individual he passed by. While some did show signs of other long term illnesses, possibly due to poor diet or inadequate hygiene, there was no doubting the cause of death in all of them was the same.

Spock calculated that it was highly probable the whole of the tribe was accounted for.

It wasn’t until they’d walked back to the outskirts of the village that the argument broke out.

“We can’t just leave them there! Piled up like so much garbage.”

“Doctor, Barradasian custom is quite rigid. They have rituals for their deceased and we would be considered barbaric if we interfered with them.”

“By whom, Mister Spock? There’s no blasted body left!”

“We shall continue to the next encampment and inform the tribesmen there.”

McCoy hesitated as his anger dissipated.

“Can’t we at least bury them? The sand would preserve them better.”

Spock allowed a moment’s sympathy with his emotional human friend.

“That is undoubtedly true however it would take an unconscionably long time to deal with everyone in an appropriate manner. It is also doubtful whether it would be wise to endeavour preserving their remains at this point.”

McCoy looked back towards the granary, clearly unhappy about leaving them but unable to suggest a suitable alternative.

Spock drew out his adjusted communicator and set it to broadcast. He winced slightly as the high pitch assaulted his ears but hid his reaction quickly.

“That working?” McCoy asked after a few minutes.

“I can confirm the signal is audible, if that is what you were enquiring Doctor. I cannot yet ascertain if the beasts are within hearing range.”

“I can’t hear a blasted thing.”

Spock didn’t point out the limited audio range of the average human, nor the decrease they experienced with age. Instead he endeavoured to provide further reassurance.

“The beasts, though they once ranged widely, have over generations learnt to reside within reasonable distance of the Barradas settlements. It has been mutually beneficial.”

He halted as he saw a dust cloud. McCoy looked the way the Vulcan was looking and shielded his eyes.

“That them?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Spock confirmed.

He turned off the communicator as the creatures drew up in a loose herd before them. They were larger than Terran horses, with barrel chests and shaggy coats, but the most noticeable difference was the twisted horn like a rhinoceros’.

McCoy wasn’t sure if he was going to like these tsemu but Spock showed no hesitation. He picked up a saddle and strode towards the nearest beast.

It immediately snorted and backed away, sending ripples of fear through the herd that all began to pace nervously.

“Spock! Spock,” McCoy called as loudly as he dared. Spock stopped and turned to him. McCoy cautiously approached the Vulcan, keeping a wary eye on the creatures. They did the same back to him and that reassured him.

“Don’t go stalking up to them like that. You gotta win their confidence first. They don’t know us from Adam.”

“And how would you go about approaching them, Doctor?”

“Well, now,” McCoy bounced unconsciously, pleased to find a contribution he could make. “I’d keep talking so they’d get used to my voice… and I’d avoid direct eye contact so they don’t see a threat…” he kept his eyes fixed on the Vulcan’s as he spoke. “And I’d maybe leave one hand out available for them to investigate without getting too close… pity I don’t have a sugar cube or apple to entice them in but I doubt Starfleet rations would have the same effect… don’t you have anything like this on Vulcan, Spock?”

Spock’s eyes had remained fixed on McCoy’s although the doctor knew the Vulcan was also aware of the creatures shifting closer round them.

“Your manner of coaxing them closer does remind me of dealing with shy sehlats although they would not be suitable for riding in this manner.”

His eyebrow rose elegantly, and McCoy smiled warmly, as a tsemu pressed its nose against McCoy’s outstretched hand. The human didn’t look round yet but allowed the creature to snuffle against him. Finally he turned his head and spoke to the beast.

“There now. Not so scary am I?” He ran his hand across its snout. “I think he’ll let you put the saddle on now Spock.”

Spock moved to comply, slightly slower than before, yet the creature seemed perfectly at ease. Several others were also pressing closer, sniffing the new arrivals, and Spock had no difficulty fixing another with a saddle. He turned to offer McCoy assistance mounting but the human was already deftly climbing up onto the beast.

Turning to his own ride, Spock swiftly followed the doctor’s example.

“Which way we heading?” McCoy asked above the noises of the animals.

Spock nodded his head towards a mountain range in the distance.

“The next settlement is at the base of the mountains,” he replied, gripping the saddle horn tightly as he adjusted to the odd shifting of the beast below him.

“Right.” McCoy agreed before making an odd clicking noise and jerking the beast with his legs.

The creature reacted instinctively and set off.

Spock contemplated copying the manoeuvre but the tsemu were herd creatures and his own mount followed before he could attempt a command.

The swaying of the beast was most unpleasant and he fought to keep his posture upright. It felt as though each movement would swing him off and the bouncing motion seemed likely to grow painful long before they ever reached their destination.

Tsemu were surprisingly swift for such ungainly animals and the village swiftly receded. The unsaddled creatures soon abandoned their companions, yet Spock’s mount seemed to understand it was part of a caravan now and kept pace behind McCoy.

The doctor glanced back as he realised the other creatures were dropping aside and caught sight of the Vulcan, bouncing stiffly and holding on tightly. He allowed his own tsemu’s pace to drop so he was alongside Spock.

“You ain’t ever ridden a horse have you?”

“Obviously,” Spock replied drily.

“Well, you’re going to do yourself an injury bouncing up and down like that. And I don’t just mean if you fall off.”

Spock risked shooting the doctor a pointed glare.

“I had already come to that conclusion,” he informed him.

McCoy winced slightly in sympathy.

“You’ve gotta stop resisting it, Spock. Don’t fight the motion, sway with it. Roll with your hips.”

He watched as Spock visibly relaxed his rigid posture and allowed the motion of the tsemu to affect him.

“That’s it.” McCoy beamed with pride.

“That is better, Doctor,” Spock acknowledged, although he still felt tender.

“You know,” McCoy drawled. “You still haven’t told me what it is Vulcan trades with Barradas. Seems to me it don’t have much to offer a warp-drive civilization like yours.”

Spock recognized the good doctor was using the conversation to distract him from the harsh ride, to try and relax him. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he was grateful.

“Vulcan has traded with Barradas for millennia,” he explained. “In pre-Surak times, when we were consumed by our passions, there was great demand for luxurious items. Barradas silk was something of a status symbol. It is the only civilization that harvests the silk without harming the silk worm.”

“How’d they do that?”

“They prompt the worm to begin releasing silk and then draw out continuous strands. It is a delicate process that requires great patience. Hence the value of the finished silk.”

“And they still produce it that way?”

“Indeed. The people of Barradas have remained loyal to their cultural ways over all the years our people have known them.”

“Huh. How come Vulcan still buys silk though? Thought all illogical luxury went out the window after Surak.”

“There is some debate over the logic of buying the silk. Immediately after we accepted Surak’s teachings, some Vulcans believed the only true path was asceticism, eschewing all luxuries. However it was also argued that pure inner peace could only be achieved if the outer body was in comfort.”

“Sounds like an excuse if you ask me.”

“Perhaps,” Spock allowed. “The fact of the silk’s humane manufacture counted in its favour and the purchase of it continued. However demand has fallen as most Vulcans choose synthesised material. A few maintain that it is important to support the Barradas culture, and adepts of Kolinahr still wear Barradas silk as a traditional sign of their achievement.”

“Kolinahr? What’s that?”

Spock was about to reply when his mount gave a snort and jerked itself forward towards McCoy’s tsemu. He gripped the pummel tightly to avoid falling.

McCoy’s ride had shied away initially but was now moving back to brush against the other beast. Spock heard the doctor chuckle.

“Why Mister Spock,” he drawled in his best Georgian accent. “I do believe your tsemu is interested in mine.”

Spock frowned as he eyed the beasts shifting awkwardly about each other, exchanging huffs and snorts. It certainly explained why his ride had required no prompting to follow the other.

“I am unsure what you expect me to do about it, Doctor,” he replied shortly.

“Only one thing _to_ do.” McCoy grinned broadly. “Run it out of them. Yeehaw!”

So saying McCoy spurred his tsemu into a gallop. Spock had barely a moment to tighten his hold before his own tsemu set off in chase.

The ride was deeply disquieting at first as the landscape whipped by and Spock was keenly aware that a fall would result in a most likely serious injury. However as he fell into the new swift rhythm his initial concern faded to be replaced by intrigue.

From his vantage point, he could study the poise and posture of the doctor as he rode his own charging mount. He could see the flexibility McCoy allowed in his grip – fingers clasped but arm loose to flow with the movement preventing jarring of the shoulder. His spine too arched and bent to retain his centre of balance on the bucking beast. And his legs were stretching and straining as they both clasped onto the tsemu’s sides and provided elasticity, absorbing the impact of the bouncy ride.

Spock studied all this intensely, committing it to his eidetic memory, before mimicking the posture.

As he urged his beast alongside McCoy’s, he called across to him.

“Come Doctor, if we maintain this speed we will significantly reduce our travel time.”

As he willed his ride on into the lead, his sharp ears picked up the familiar sound of the doctor laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never ridden a horse (nor a tsemu) so I apologise for any inaccuracies.


	4. Virtually Solid Angst

McCoy fought to stop the blush that wanted to spread across his cheeks at the sight of the tent.

“Going to be a mite cosy isn’t it?” he queried.

The tent was designed for one man. Two men _could_ fit but there would be no space between them. Not the ideal situation. Or _the_ ideal situation, depending on your point of view. He coughed awkwardly.

“How come you didn’t bring something a little roomier?”

“When I requisitioned the tent from supplies, I was expecting to be alone.” He spared a brief glance to McCoy. “However it did not seem necessary to re-order when I was informed the plans had been altered.”

That brought McCoy’s blush out full force. He busied himself with removing the tsemu’s saddles and stoking their flanks.

“Oh?” he offered over his shoulder. “Why not?”

“I had assumed that we would take turns utilising the tent, one keeping watch while the other rested.”

“Oh.” McCoy hoped his disappointment didn’t sound in his voice. He frowned as he realised something and turned to face the Vulcan.

“Wait a minute. Why the past tense?”

Spock looked across to him with a look of what passed for mild surprise.

“I shall not be sleeping,” he informed McCoy succinctly.

McCoy blinked.

“What do you mean, ‘not sleeping’? You _have_ to sleep!”

“Doctor, I am a Vulcan. As you are aware, we can go for many days without sleep if necessary.”

“If necessary yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to now.”

“I had anticipated it might be necessary on this assignment, Doctor. And I would be quite remiss in my duties if I succumbed to sleep.”

McCoy crossed his arms and glared.

“Is this because Jim told you to look after me? Dammit! He wasn’t being _literal_. And I’m not completely helpless!”

“Doctor,” Spock’s tone was probably not meant to be as condescending as it sounded to McCoy. “Have you forgotten the di-kironium cloud? I am likely to be safe from its affects due to my copper-based blood yet you are at considerable risk. While I am awake I may keep guard for its approach. My superior senses provide a greater chance of detecting it early enough to effect an escape.”

McCoy wasn’t prepared to give in yet.

“Damn thing can outrun a starship Spock. How likely it is we’d make an escape, even with our rides?”

“When in deep space the creature manipulated gravity fields for propulsion. On a planet’s surface this ability would be significantly hampered by being contained within the world’s gravity well. I do not believe it would be able to move fast.”

“So your plan is to sit up all night, watching out for funny clouds, and then run like hell if you spot one?”

“I do intend to stay awake throughout the night however it is more likely I will detect the cloud by scent first. Also, I will wake you before running, Doctor.”

“Well don’t that make me feel special,” McCoy muttered to himself.

Spock stood and waited for McCoy’s inevitable surrender to logic.

“Fine,” he huffed. “Not like I can force you to sleep.”

“Indeed, Doctor. I will bid you good night.” He turned and gazed seemingly calmly out across the landscape.

McCoy stared at his back a moment longer before ducking inside the tent.

“Good night Spock,” he threw back sarcastically.

Once inside the tiny space he set about pulling his boots off with unnecessary force, muttering to himself about the amount of dirt that had worked its way inside his socks. He shook them out vigorously and started yanking off his outer clothes, doing the same to them in an attempt to remove the ingrained dust.

Eventually he’d grumbled and complained to himself as much as he could and the feeling of guilt assailed him. He shifted inside the sleeping bag and tried to keep his thoughts from the Vulcan stood watch outside.

Of course, trying not to think about something never worked and all McCoy could focus on was the fact that Spock wasn’t getting any sleep because of _him_. Telling himself that Vulcans could indeed go days with no sleep and show no ill effects didn’t help in the slightest. The point was, if McCoy hadn’t insisted on coming with Spock, then the Vulcan would have no qualms about settling down to rest.

The di-kironium cloud, after all, didn’t have a taste for copper-based blood. Spock could sleep safe in the knowledge that even if it did float by, he’d be safe. But because _McCoy_ , with his human iron-based blood was with him, Spock couldn’t sleep. Because he’d been ordered by Jim to look after the doctor.

McCoy groaned and covered his face with his hand.

He’d royally screwed this up.

McCoy didn’t expect to fall asleep – in some part he hadn’t _wanted_ to fall asleep – but at some point during his guilt strewn self-flagellation he’d apparently drifted off. At any rate he was brought back to wakefulness by the sound of his own name being repeated.

“Doctor McCoy.” Spock’s voice was its usual emotionless tone so McCoy assumed there wasn’t an emergency.

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” he grumbled vaguely as he pulled himself upright and rubbed his eyes. He forced himself to focus on the Vulcan peering in at him.

Damn but Spock looked immaculate as always. McCoy was sure his own hair was probably stuck up where he’d rested on it and he knew his eyes were squinting.

He frowned slightly. Now he thought about it, he shouldn’t be squinting this hard to see Spock only a few feet away. The idea finally worked his way into his sleepy mind as Spock retreated outside the tent, apparently assured the doctor would now begin rousing himself. McCoy sighed and pulled his medikit towards him. Time for a dose of Retinax V.

He fumbled through once without really focusing. Retinax V was as familiar to him as formazine and he let his mind wander over thoughts of the day ahead before realizing he’d not immediately located it. Frowning slightly, he looked through the ampules more carefully, feeling an increasing sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Damn,” he murmured, not really wanting Spock to hear but once again underestimating the Vulcan’s hearing.

“Doctor?” Spock’s head reappeared at the entrance. “Is something the matter?”

McCoy massaged his forehead carefully, unhappy about having to explain but knowing he had to.

“Nurse Chapel packed my medikit for me,” he spoke quite calmly, feeling renewed guilt rather than anger. “She packed all the specially prepared hybrid medicines I requested for you… but neither of us remembered my Retinax.”

“Ah. You take Retinax for your sight?”

“Indeed Mister Spock.” McCoy looked up at him, resigned to the slight blurriness of his features.

“Will this cause you difficulties in travelling?”

“Shouldn’t. Its only details close to that’ll give me difficulties. I… won’t be much good if anyone requires surgery.”

Spock nodded thoughtfully.

“I do not expect that will be a problem,” he replied. “You should continue to prepare to leave. Ask if you require any assistance.”

So saying he retreated again, leaving McCoy with a new depth of guilt.

The doctor pressed his face into his hands and breathed deeply for several seconds.

So he was going to be keeping Spock from sleeping during this mission, he was useless for any real medical treatment, and the Vulcan was undoubtedly now going to be watching for him bumping into things or otherwise injuring himself. Great.

McCoy allowed himself another moment’s self-pity before resolving to stop feeling so damn helpless. He was a Starfleet Officer… Chief Medical Officer of the flagship no less! He may not be up to detailed surgery right now but he was still far from useless. And he’d make sure the damn green-blooded hobgoblin knew it.

Chiding himself silently, he pulled on his clothes and grabbed a couple of breakfast bars out of their kit before crawling out to face the day.

He stood and stretched out his muscles briefly and then looked round for Spock. The Vulcan was busy preparing the tsemu so McCoy unwrapped his own nutritional bar and quickly ate it. He walked over with the other bar outstretched.

“Here. You should eat this before we leave. Who knows when we’ll next be able to eat.”

Spock turned and eyed the proffered food before taking it.

“There is no reason to think we will have difficulties stopping for meals during our travels,” he commented. He did however unwrap and eat his bar.

Satisfied that Spock was at least not going to go hungry on his watch, McCoy decided not to argue over the likelihood of encountering trouble. He remained convinced that with their luck, trouble would probably find them before long.

Instead he turned to cast a gaze over the beasts. Spock had seemingly had no trouble today affixing their saddles ready for the off. However…

McCoy squinted and moved closer.

“What the hell is this?”

“It is a rope, Doctor.”

McCoy turned to glare.

“I can see it’s a damned rope. I’m not _actually_ blind. What’s it doing there?”

“Given your reduced vision, I thought it prudent to attach our tsemus together. It would not do for us to become separated.”

“‘Reduced vision’? I’m +3.25 in this eye and +2.75 in the left! I’m perfectly capable of seeing a tsemu ten metres away!”

“Nevertheless, conditions may deteriorate reducing visibility. Sand storms are common in terrain such as this.”

“Didn’t worry you yesterday.” McCoy crossed his arms as he challenged the Vulcan.

“Yesterday we were broadly within the agricultural belt of the Barradas settlement. Trees and other plant life held the soil together. Out here there are no such restraints.”

McCoy risked a glance around them. It was true that he could see nothing but rocks as far as he could see.

“Damned stubborn Vulcan,” he muttered, which was as close as he’d come to agreeing.

Spock nodded and moved to pack up the tent while McCoy fed the tsemus with a couple more bars from his rations.

“Shall I assist you in mounting?”

Spock’s voice made McCoy jump. He’d been so focused on his thoughts, and the beasts nuzzling closer looking for more treats, that he hadn’t been aware the Vulcan was so close.

“Dammit,” he swore both out of surprise and annoyance. “I don’t need help!”

He stalked round and set his foot in the stirrup. Spock griped his arm despite his protests and McCoy was supported quite firmly until he was seated.

He continued to grumble to himself as Spock swiftly mounted his own ride.


	5. Vested Shared Attention

The morning’s ride was fairly quiet.

Spock was never one for idle talk and McCoy was in too sullen a mood to make the effort. However he couldn’t bear the silence for too long and every now and again asked Spock an innocuous question, just to ease the tension he felt.

The simplicity of the asking and answering helped soothe McCoy’s anxiety and by lunchtime he’d recovered his spirits. He didn’t even object when Spock unhesitatingly helped him down from the saddle.

“I believe the temperature will soon become uncomfortable,” the Vulcan commented with a glance at the sun’s ascent. “It would be prudent to wait out the middle of the day under cover.”

“Yeah,” McCoy agreed. “No sense risking sunburn or heatstroke.”

With the practised ease of experience from many landing parties, they once more set up camp. This time however, both men crawled under the protective cover of the tent.

McCoy edged as far in as possible and sat with legs crossed beneath him. Spock remained near the entrance and knelt as though for meditation.

“You’ll end up with prepatellar bursitis if you keep that up,” the doctor commented. Spock raised an eyebrow in response.

“You shall suffer muscle cramps from your current position,” he replied and McCoy huffed a laugh.

“Nothing a good stretching out won’t fix,” he smiled at the familiar banter before offering Spock protein rations. The Vulcan accepted the nutritional drink without comment and they sat a while in silence as they finished what passed for lunch.

“You know,” McCoy eyed his empty packet, “I won’t complain half so much about the replicator when we get back.”

“I doubt that,” Spock responded.

“And I imagine you’d have statistical analysis to show what complaining exactly half was,” McCoy spoke good-humouredly.

“It would not be hard to calculate such a percentage,” Spock agreed. McCoy shook his head in mock exasperation.

“Well, when I do complain just you suggest I have one of these dietary sachets instead.”

“I shall do that, Doctor.”

McCoy wished he could be sure if the flicker of amusement he saw was really there or just his blurred vision.

“So… why’d the people here migrate? Seemed like that settlement back there had everything they’d need.”

“They migrate for the sake of their herds. You’ll have seen very little grazing so far. The mountain side provides lush grass for them.”

McCoy considered this.

“So why don’t they settle at the mountain? Isn’t the soil good for cultivation?”

“On the contrary, the soil is most fertile there. However the reason for that is also the reason they migrate. It comes from the mineral rich ash of the volcano.”

“Wait. That’s a volcano we’re heading to?”

“It is. However it is not due to erupt any time soon.”

“If it ain’t due to erupt, why have the people migrated?”

“Because their migration is traditional rather than scientifically based. In their pre-history, their ancestors fled the lava of the volcano and made a new settlement where we just saw. However, when the ‘anger of the gods’ abated, they returned to the mountain and rebuilt.

“This happened on several occasions that coincided with the changing seasons so that the Barradas people began migrating in expectation of the lava flow. While it did not always erupt in their absence, it happened sufficiently for them to retain the habit. This then became their tradition which has continued unbroken.”

“So when’s it next due to go off?”

“It is unclear since there is no regular study here but the reports of activity have been dwindling over the centuries.”

“Might be dying altogether then?”

“Indeed.”

McCoy wished he hadn’t mentioned dying but the damage was done. He quickly moved the conversation on.

“If this migration’s a regular event… who’re we expecting to find?”

“There are always some tribespeople for whom the journey would be too arduous. The sick and infirm remain, believing that they’ll either be claimed by the fires or live to heal. The elderly similarly stay behind trusting to the will of the god as to whether they will see their family next season. The heavily pregnant also occasionally remain-”

“Wait! Men leave their pregnant wives behind?”

“It is rarer and usually only occurs if the woman’s husband and family are deceased. It is again a form of testing of fitness for survival.”

“Damn barbaric,” McCoy muttered.

“I understand that it has become more common for the fit and healthy to also remain. The younger generation are beginning to look beyond old traditions. It has been so long since any lava flowed that they do not believe in the god as they once did.”

“Good for them,” McCoy declared. “There’s hope for the future yet.”

“Perhaps,” Spock allowed and the memory of what they’d found in the granary settled over them both.

Spock changed the subject this time.

“I suggest you attempt more rest now, Doctor. We will be unable to travel further for another two hours at least and it may benefit us to travel longer later.”

“I’m not going to kick you out into that sun Spock. The UV light is much too strong.”

“I will remain here.” He shifted around so McCoy had space to lie down. “I shall attempt a light meditation while you sleep.”

McCoy hesitated a moment but the heat of the day was getting to him even in the tent and it was very tempting.

“Alright,” he relented. “I’ll just rest my eyes a bit.”

He uncrossed his legs and surreptitiously rubbed the muscles before lying out next to the kneeling Vulcan. There wasn’t much space and McCoy couldn’t avoid one upper arm pressing against Spock’s lower leg. He didn’t mention it and the Vulcan seemed to be ignoring it.

McCoy fully intended to only close his eyes. He hadn’t thought he was tired enough to sleep and if anything he’d wanted to relish the short contact with Spock. However what felt like mere seconds later he was being woken by a hand on his shoulder.

“We may continue our journey now,” Spock informed him.

McCoy lay flat and stared at the Vulcan’s face above him. He was at a nice distance where McCoy could enjoy the distinctive features he so often admired without being able to see the little details that reminded the doctor of how inconsequential Spock thought him.

Then Spock’s face retreated and McCoy was left to drag himself back to wakefulness.

Packing everything up only took Spock a few minutes and McCoy tried to gauge the hour from the sun’s position. Mid-afternoon was his best guess.

He remounted his tsemu before Spock could repeat his offer of assistance and within five minutes of waking they were trotting off into the desert once again.

The quiet this time was more companionable and McCoy felt his spirits lifting as they rode faster and harder. This was something he needed no help with. He felt a measure of pleasure as Spock allowed McCoy’s beast to take the lead.

A sudden jar on the rope connecting his beast to Spock’s followed by a resounding thump drew McCoy up short.

He halted the tsemu and looked back in alarm.

Spock’s tsemu was awkwardly shifting behind him but the Vulcan was no longer in the saddle.

“Spock!” McCoy dropped quickly off the beast’s back and hurried over to find his friend. The Vulcan was pulling himself into a sitting position some metres behind the creatures.

“Spock. What happened?” McCoy dropped to his knees and began scanning.

“The rope tying our tsemu together had become lax as we rode. However my beast slowed unexpectedly and it rather quickly became taut, catching my leg. The force was sufficient to push me from my seat.”

“Damn rope,” McCoy growled. “I told you it was unnecessary.”

Spock nodded his head towards the horizon away from the lowering sun.

“If those clouds catch up with us then I believe the rope will be of great value,” he remarked.

McCoy glanced that way. His own attention had been focused between monitoring the setting sun and checking the distance to the mountain. It was true there was now an ominous darkness across the opposite skyline. He ignored it.

“You’ve pulled a muscle in your shoulder,” he reported. “I can give you a shot to ease the pain, and bind it up to stop you making it worse, but I can’t fix it here. Rest is the best thing I can prescribe.”

He began pulling a hypo out of his kit but Spock objected quickly.

“I am well able to ignore the pain Doctor. It is quite insignificant.”

“There’s no damn need for you to ignore the pain when I can get rid of it for you.”

“Are you certain you will be able to ascertain the correct medicine, Doctor? Or the correct dosage?”

McCoy puffed up angrily.

“Now see here you green-blooded nuisance. A half blind bat could recognise the symbols on these ampules and I can damn well set the dosage on a hypo in my sleep! So unless you’re honestly telling me you don’t trust my medical judgement…?” He left that question hanging.

Spock hesitated only a second longer before nodding for him to proceed. McCoy frowned in continuing displeasure even as he administered the drug.

“Now let me tie up that arm and we’ll get going.”

“That would be most unwise,” Spock argued. “I need the use of both arms to maintain control of the tsemu. I shall most certainly fall again if you restrain one.”

“I can lead yours so you only need to hold on. And you’ll only need one arm for that.”

“Riding such a beast with no means to both retain balance and govern its movement would be foolish. What if you were unable to direct your tsemu correctly?”

“We can deal with that if we get to it. If you keep on using that arm, you’ll only damage the muscle further.”

“The damage will not be irreparable. It may cause some additional discomfort-”

“Discomfort! Dammit! I am **not** letting you do yourself further harm!”

Spock paused as he recognised McCoy’s mounting anger.

“Doctor, I assure you I have no wish to encourage further damage. However it seems very likely I will encounter greater injury if I allow you to bind my arm.”

He waited while McCoy considered that. It was true that with only one arm Spock would have difficulty in riding. McCoy himself would be uneasy riding such an unfamiliar beast with one hand literally tied.

“I will use the utmost care to avoid straining the muscle further,” Spock added and McCoy finally relented.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But I want to know the moment it starts causing you pain. I can administer another hypo then.”

“Very well,” Spock agreed readily. “Now I suggest we continue. It would be preferable to have as much distance between us and that storm as possible before camping.”

McCoy once again eyed the purple clouds.

“I’ll agree to that.”

This time he insisted on helping the Vulcan mount. He half thought Spock would argue with him over that but apparently it was a logical enough suggestion.

He returned to his own beast and pulled himself swiftly into the saddle. Checking once over his shoulder to ensure Spock was settled comfortably, he encouraged it into a trot.

The beast’s natural speed seemed to be something closer to a gallop and McCoy worried about Spock’s shoulder being jarred. He frequently glanced back but it was impossible to tell if the Vulcan was in discomfort or not. And McCoy could also see the approaching clouds.

He warred between slowing to reduce the bumpy ride and urging the beast on to outrun the threatening weather. Eventually he realised that fighting to change the beast’s speed was an effort in futility and he resolved to make sure Spock’s shoulder received the best possible treatment as soon as possible.


	6. Violent Storm Abuse

They rode anxiously on until nightfall necessitated they stop. Although it was unclear if they’d have been able to outride the storm even given continuing daylight. By the time they stopped it was obviously getting closer.

McCoy was uncomfortable about settling to sleep, leaving Spock outside in the increasing winds, but the Vulcan was immutable on the point. He finally agreed that he would seek refuge in the tent when it became impossible to detect the di-kironium cloud outside. But not before.

McCoy huffed and swore but eventually stomped into the tent. He didn’t undress but settled himself stubbornly cross-legged, determined to pull the damn stubborn Vulcan in the moment he heard the first drop of rain fall.

He hadn’t allowed for his own exhaustion. Even with his afternoon rest, it had been a hard day riding and the susurration of the wind swiftly lulled him into sleep.

It wasn’t actually a sound that woke him but a sudden jarring shock running throughout his body that made his hair stand on end and his skin tingle unpleasantly. His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open as he became aware of the sizzling crackles running over the framework of the tent.

It was a damned electrical storm.

There was a sudden burst of light and flames erupted around him, crawling swiftly across the tent and reaching out to snatch at his clothes. He surged upright, quickly trying to orientate himself, before an arm reached towards him. His own hand seized onto it even as Spock’s hand grasped him painfully hard and pulled him bodily out of the burning tent.

He coughed out the lungful of smoke he’d unwittingly inhaled before realising Spock was still dragging him away. With a sudden twist he freed himself.

“The tsemu!” he choked, stumbling back to where the beasts were frantic, tied to the metalwork of the now flaming tent. His hands fumbled with the knotted rope about its neck, made all the more difficult by its constant straining to escape.

“Doctor!” Spock’s voice was imperative and broke through McCoy’s concentration. He looked across to see Spock still had his phaser and was aiming it at the rope.

McCoy nodded briefly and took a pace away. In two swift shots the Vulcan had seared each tsemu’s bindings and the terrified beasts bolted off into the swirling sand of the desert. McCoy felt a moment’s relief before what felt like a shock wave hit him.

He was flung to the ground hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs and leaving him choking. For a few brief seconds he lay there dazed… and then the searing pain kicked in and he screamed.

Every nerve ending down his back seemed to be burning and he was struggling to breathe through the agony of it. He imagined he heard a voice, and then a momentary coolness against his neck, before everything went black and he lost consciousness.

…

The pain was the first thing he was aware of.

It was still searing, still burning and he writhed in an illogical attempt to escape it.

“Doctor, remain still. I must treat you.”

McCoy recognised Spock’s voice and his frantic mind clung to the familiarity of it.

“Hurts,” he murmured.

“I have your medikit, Doctor. What should I administer?”

“Pain… cortisone.”

There was a faint sound as Spock retrieved the requested vial.

“How much?” he asked briefly. McCoy tried to slow his breathing and focus.

“50cc,” he responded. Seconds later there was a faint hiss and McCoy felt some of the urgent pain recede. Breathing became easier and McCoy took a few moments to calm his thrumming heart rate down.

“What happened?” he asked remaining for the moment quite still, laid on his stomach.

“Another bolt of lightning grounded itself through the tent. It caused a minor explosion that threw you some distance. Your… heart stopped Doctor.” Spock seemed to hesitate. “I administered 2ml of cordrazine as I had observed you do so to Lieutenant Sulu and it was effective. Thankfully, your medikit was attached to you. Everything we had in the tent is destroyed.”

McCoy nodded vaguely and winced.

“What are my injuries?”

“You have severe burns across your back, most noticeably across your shoulders.”

“Can’t do much about them here. Is it just burnt?”

“There is some sign of suppuration. It could lead to possible infection if left untreated.”

McCoy sighed. It never rained but it poured.

“Any corophizine in the medikit?”

There was some more clinking and McCoy turned his head to the side to watch. He realised there was shards spread amongst the ampules Spock had tipped out as well as spreading pools of liquid.

“I believe that vial must have broken Doctor. You landed heavily on your kit. It was fortunate that they were not all damaged.”

McCoy dropped his face back onto his arms and tried to think logically.

His burns weren’t a serious issue. The pain could be managed with more doses of cortisone. Not ideal but better than nothing. It was the possibility of infection that was worrying. But there was nothing more to be done about it.

“Well,” he tried to sound upbeat, more for himself than the Vulcan. “Jim’ll be back tomorrow to pick us up. I should survive ‘til then.” He began to push himself up with his hands only to gasp as the movement stretched his damaged skin.

“Doctor,” Spock admonished even as he moved to gently support McCoy. “You must be more cautious. You will increase your risk of infection by opening your wounds in that manner.”

McCoy let Spock support him upright, still feeling weak kneed. He had no idea how much time had passed since the storm but the skies were now clear, if still dark. It was a pre-dawn darkness though.

“Do we have any rations?” he asked.

Spock shook his head.

“The sum total of our possessions are your medikit, my phaser and our communicators.”

“Wonderful,” McCoy grumbled and tried to bend to gather his medical supplies.

“Let me,” Spock insisted, holding the doctor firmly upright with one hand. McCoy bit back his instinctive retort and allowed Spock to bend and put the unbroken vials back in his kit. He knew he’d be even more of a liability if he allowed his wounds to worsen.

“I suggest we leave now,” Spock offered once they had their meagre possessions collected. “We should be able to reach shelter by nightfall.”

McCoy nodded, not quite trusting his voice. In truth the prospect of walking through the desert was distressing to say the least. Despite the cortisone he was still aware of the pain across his shoulders. His shirts had clearly been ruined over his back and the thought of the strong sun beating down on his injuries was already making him wince in pain.

“Alright,” he agreed after swallowing his reluctance. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“A moment, Doctor.” Spock stopped him with a hand to his elbow. He then proceeded to pull off his own blue science shirt. “You should cover yourself.”

McCoy blinked at the offering.

“Not sure that’s a good idea,” he hedged, stubbornness warring with sheer gratefulness.

“It is perfectly logical,” Spock insisted. “I am better adapted to desert environments and my undershirt will be perfectly sufficient protection. You need added screening from the sun due to both your human condition and your wounds.”

As McCoy continued to hesitate Spock added the only other incentive he thought might persuade him.

“Please.”

The doctor could not refuse that and he gingerly moved to pull off his tattered uniform. Once again, Spock stopped him quickly.

“Allow me.”

The Vulcan very cautiously ran his hands up McCoy’s sides, shifting the fabric up and away from his skin.

“Try to remain still,” he instructed as the doctor shifted awkwardly.

Once the material was gathered about his torso, Spock moved it quickly over his head and straight down his arms. He then picked up his slightly larger shirt and deftly slipped McCoy’s hands into the sleeves. With swift movements, he pulled it up and down over the human’s head, carefully shifting it so it didn’t rub as it fell down his back.

McCoy still grimaced slightly as the cloth drifted against the mess of his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“Now we should set off,” he replied succinctly and gestured for McCoy to precede him.

The walking was not too bad to begin with. The dawn was still and cool and they kept a good pace as they continued towards the volcano. They were both quiet – McCoy because he was focused on just keeping going, breathing and walking seeming to take a lot of effort – and Spock because his attention was now focused entirely on the human walking a few paces ahead of him.

From where he was walking he could see the material of his shirt soaking up the fluids leaking from the doctor’s shoulders. As it dried and stuck, he knew that it would only become even more painful. Yet he had no solution for that problem. The only alternative was to forgo the covering and then the wounds would be worsened by the baking sun.

The morning moved on and the sun began its ascent. McCoy’s mouth felt awfully dry and he tried to remember how long it had been since he drank from their canteen. Did he drink overnight? He couldn’t remember. He remembered the smoke though. The choking feeling of it in his lungs. He wondered if the di-kironium cloud would feel like that.

McCoy’s steps began to falter. As he weaved side to side Spock thought that perhaps he should call a halt. Yet, sitting out here in the desert would do them no good. The only respite they would have was at one of the Barradas huts that he could just see with his Vulcan vision. While McCoy was still capable therefore, they should logically keep going.

McCoy was thinking about touch. Specifically Spock’s touch. He knew Spock ran his hands up his sides earlier – he had the shirt to prove it – yet he couldn’t focus on that feeling. Had he felt it at all? All he could feel was the slow burning over his back. He also remembered a cool hand on his neck that was soothing. Although now he thought of it… did the damn Vulcan neck pinch him?

McCoy stopped suddenly and Spock instinctively halted as well before moving to join him. He eyed the man in honest concern. McCoy looked puzzled.

Spock risked touching his elbow gently to gain his attention from wherever it had wandered.

“Do you require more cortisone?”

McCoy turned dull blue eyes towards him but couldn’t seem to focus. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again with another look of confusion.

“Sit,” Spock encouraged him mildly. The doctor sank down without resistance and Spock positioned them so his own Vulcan body was shielding his companion from the worst of the sun. He found the cortisone and unerringly injected it into the doctor’s neck.

“We will rest a few minutes,” he offered.

As the medication flooded the doctor’s bloodstream he relaxed and lent heavily against the Vulcan’s chest. Spock considered creating some distance between them but reasoned he could more effectively shield the doctor like this.

It was logical.


	7. Village Shadow Attack

McCoy’s scattered thoughts slowly started to coalesce into distinct ideas as both the cortisone and the shade provided by Spock had an effect. For a brief while he allowed himself to rest against the reassuring presence of the Vulcan. But his returning sense didn’t allow him much peace.

He was a doctor. He knew his own symptoms would only get worse as they pushed on towards the village. The infection was already making its presence felt and the cortisone would have no effect on that. Added to which he was beginning to feel the first signs of dehydration, doubtless exacerbated by his weeping wounds and smoke inhalation.

What was it Spock had said when Jim assigned him onto this mission? That McCoy would be detrimental? He huffed a self-deprecating laugh that swiftly turned into a cough and he pulled away from Spock to try and clear his parched throat.

When he’d brought his coughing back under control he settled himself a few feet from the Vulcan and looked at him. Spock was watching him closely. Doubtless analysing how else the doctor might hinder him on his mission.

McCoy sighed.

“You’d reach the next encampment much quicker on your own, Spock. I bet you could probably jog that distance without getting winded.”

“I calculate we will still reach it by nightfall, Doctor. Even with this rest period.”

“But you don’t need me there. You never needed me on this assignment. I may as well just wait here for you.”

“Illogical. You are liable to suffer symptoms of fever and hallucinations, not to mention further risk of exacerbating your wounds. I would be derelict in my duties of care to leave you.”

“Goddammit Spock! Your mission here is to find out what happened! Make sure the people over there know what’s killed their family and friends! Not to nursemaid me!”

“My first duty is to the survival of the ship and crew-”

“Ain’t no ship or crew here, Spock,” McCoy interrupted harshly. “Just an emotional doctor who you’d be better without. Didn’t you always want a more capable CMO?” He couldn’t quite keep the hurt from his voice.

Spock looked honestly shocked at the outburst.

“Leonard, I always assumed my respect for you was clear.” He waited a moment to ensure he had the doctor’s full attention. “The dialogue we have had across the years has always-”

“Honey,” McCoy suddenly interrupted.

Spock blinked in surprise at the unexpected endearment before recognising the sign of fear in McCoy’s widening eyes. He inhaled sharply and picked up the strengthening scent at once.

Without a further word of warning he seized the doctor up into his arms, ignoring the sudden pain in his shoulder, and ran.

McCoy let out a cry of pain as Spock of necessity jostled his injuries but he clung onto the Vulcan without another sound of protest.

Spock was quick to calculate their relative speeds and it was apparent that if he didn’t find an alternative swiftly, they would be overtaken and consumed by the di-kironium cloud. Already tendrils of white mist were curling into his peripheral vision.

He made his decision suddenly.

Without a word of warning he dropped to the ground and pressed McCoy beneath him, taking care to wrap one arm about the human’s neck and the other around his waist in an attempt to keep his bleeding back from rubbing against the earth.

McCoy seemed to understand his aim, or at least he instinctively curled himself protectively under Spock. Both arms tucked against the Vulcan’s chest and his legs were securely between Spock’s own.

Spock tucked his head down against the messy hair of the doctor and illogically hoped his bodily shield would be sufficient to protect the other man. He could feel the cloud nipping at his own skin but that did not concern him. In fact it would serve to discourage the cloud as his own copper-based blood would repel it.

They lay still, Spock counting his own breaths and comparing the rate with the doctor’s harsher breathing. He could feel the doctor’s heart beat in a disturbingly irregular rhythm. It was several minutes before he deduced the cloud had retreated, put off by the bad taste of his own iron-deficient blood.

He was still cautious about raising his head, knowing the cloud creature was quite intelligent enough to merely lure its prey out. As he glanced around their surroundings though, it seemed clear the creature had gone. At least temporarily.

“It is safe now Doctor,” he announced, gingerly untangling them and pulling McCoy into a sitting position. “I suspect the creature is not hungry enough to bother with one human after its attack on the local people.”

He realised the doctor was unusually unresponsive and turned his gaze onto him. McCoy’s eyes were shut and he was struggling to breathe. Perspiration was gathering over his forehead. Clearly the jostling movement had opened up his wounds and caused him more pain.

Spock shifted so he could examine the man’s back. The burnt skin had cracked in places to bleed afresh. Combined with everything else, this would hasten the effects of dehydration significantly. It was imperative Spock remove the doctor from further sun exposure.

“Doctor,” he spoke slowly and clearly. “I am going to carry you to the settlement.”

He half expected another tirade about leaving him, even in spite of the reminder of the threat from the di-kironium cloud, but McCoy just swayed slightly.

Spock took the silence as assent and cautiously threaded his arms about the doctor’s waist. He pulled the doctor against him and murmured into his ear,

“Put your arms around my neck, Doctor.”

There was a moment before he seemed to understand the instruction and then two arms sluggishly moved to encompass Spock’s neck.

Spock cradled him like a child as he stood up. It occurred to Spock that perhaps he should have offered the doctor another cortisone injection but it seemed the medication was not suitable for combating the doctor’s current symptoms. He needed shelter and water urgently.

With that thought in mind, Spock began the trek towards their destination.

He was reassured by the doctor’s steady breathing against his neck and the heartbeat, although not strong, was less arrhythmic than in his panic before. The Vulcan remained alert for the scent of honey or the wispy signs of mist, but he allowed the rhythm of their pulses to calm his mind.

At some point on their journey, McCoy fell to sleep.

It was early twilight when they arrived and Spock was discouraged to see no signs of early lamps or fires. He prioritised tending to McCoy and headed into the centre of the camp where he anticipated a water supply. He found a pump stationed over a long trough and carefully set the doctor down beside it.

The inevitable jarring as his back touched the rough surface, woke him up with a gasp.

“My apologies,” Spock offered even as he quickly surveyed McCoy’s symptoms. His eyes were unfocused and he was vainly attempting to wet his dry lips.

Spock moved with haste to retrieve water.

He knelt beside his companion and gently raised the bowl to his lips. The first splash fell down the doctor’s chin but then he reacted instinctively and began to swallow the water greedily.

Spock pulled the bowl away gently.

“You should drink slowly,” he instructed. “Or you may make yourself sick.”

The doctor managed to focus on him and a few moments later nodded his understanding. Spock brought the bowl back to his lips and let the doctor drink.

Once it was empty he went to fetch more.

As he returned to McCoy he saw the human had regained some awareness.

“We at the mountain?” he asked hoarsely.

“Yes, Doctor.”

McCoy frowned, still confused. “Where’s the people?” he asked.

Spock glanced round the darkening settlement with hesitation.

“I do not yet know,” he offered before raising the water once more to McCoy’s lips.

The doctor however wasn’t to be dissuaded.

Pushing the bowl aside with as much force as his weakened state would allow, he fixed a stubborn glare on the Vulcan.

“Well you better find them hadn’t you?” he challenged.

Spock paused again. He suspected it would make no difference if he looked for the tribesmen now or in an hour yet it was clear McCoy was determined. Placing the bowl carefully into McCoy’s hands he nodded.

“I shall search the village,” he agreed. “You should try to drink some more water. You have lost a lot of fluid.” He didn’t wait to see if the doctor would obey but swiftly went to examine the dwellings.

The first few homes were empty but then he found an occupied hut. Even without a tricorder, the signs were obvious of what had killed the occupant. Spock knelt and examined the body visually.

There was no scent of decay as before and the limbs were stiff with rigor mortis. They could have died as little as two hours ago given the high ambient temperature. Spock estimated the individual had stayed behind due to his advanced age.

With no more to learn, Spock retrieved a lamp from its wall niche and lit it with his phaser before continuing his grim tour.

It was somewhat over an hour before he made his way back to McCoy. He had taken care to examine every dwelling, not wishing to take the chance of missing a survivor, but had found no-one alive. It was impossible to tell if everyone was accounted for but Spock could think of no other place to look.

He thought McCoy was asleep as he approached but the doctor opened his eyes once he was only a few paces away. There was an almost hopeful look in his eyes.

“There is no-one here,” Spock told him, hedging the truth slightly in an attempt to spare the overly exhausted doctor further pain.

McCoy however was forcing himself to pay close attention despite his illnesses.

“You mean no-one alive,” he corrected automatically.

Spock would not outright lie.

“Yes,” he agreed, sitting down and glancing to see that the doctor had indeed drunk the remaining water.

“Damn,” McCoy murmured softly, both voice and mind drifting before he came to with a start.

“How long?” he demanded. Spock didn’t immediately understand so he clarified. “Did they die when the others did?” His voice slurred but was intelligible.

Spock didn’t think his answer through but responded factually.

“They likely died some two to four hours ago. Without our equipment though it is impossible to tell.”

A pained look crossed McCoy’s face.

“Damn,” he said again. “You should have left me. You should have… if you’d come straight here, you could have warned them… saved them…”

“Doctor,” Spock interrupted his ramblings firmly. “There is no defence against the di-kironium cloud besides its dislike for my blood. I could not protect everyone. I could not even know there were people here to protect. I prioritised your survival.”

McCoy was shaking his head, clearly beset by his distress.

“If you’d warned them they could have fled. Spread into the desert… like ants… scattering… running…”

“Doctor. If I had left you, you would now be dead too and there is no certainty I could have arrived in time to save anyone else.”

McCoy however wasn’t hearing anything Spock was saying.

“All dead… my fault… all dead…”

Spock frowned but realised further discussion was pointless. Instead he gathered the mumbling doctor up and carried him to an unoccupied hut.

Once inside he lay him down on his front and focused himself on cleaning the infected wounds across his back.

McCoy continued to mumble nonsense long into the night.


	8. Vulnerable Sentiments Assessment

McCoy’s head was pounding as he came to. It took him several long seconds to realise part of the thrumming was actually outside his head.

Cautiously he opened his eyes.

There was a familiar monitor above his head with six little moving arrows. He eyed them with unconcerned curiosity before really recognising them. Then he frowned intently as he tried to make sense of them from this angle.

A figure moving into the room drew his attention and he looked across to see Doctor M’Benga. The African doctor smiled widely at him.

“Finally awake I see,” he spoke cheerfully.

“What in hell happened?” McCoy grumbled, struggling to sit up. His muscles all felt very tender though he couldn’t think why. M’Benga hastened forward to support him into a sitting position.

“What do you remember?” he turned the question back expertly. McCoy recognised the technique to assess for memory loss and did his best to focus his thoughts.

“I was on Barradas III… with Spock…” His eyes widened suddenly. “Spock! Where’s Spock?”

“The Commander is fine,” M’Benga assured him smoothly. “What else do you remember?”

McCoy didn’t look totally reassured but he let that go for now.

“The people… they were… It was the di-kironium cloud!” He tried to swing himself out of the bed but M’Benga was wise to that manoeuvre and quickly held him back.

“The captain knows,” he told him quickly. “Mister Spock reported it almost immediately you both beamed aboard. They sent down an antimatter bomb. I’m assured the cloud was destroyed.”

McCoy shifted back again and winced.

“My shoulders feel like someone took a grater to them.”

M’Benga seemed amused at that metaphor.

“You had third degree burns across both shoulder blades and second degree burns down your spine. There was cracked skin that had acquired an infection causing septicaemia. You were also suffering severe dehydration. We’ve got your fluid levels up, healed the muscles and skin and cleaned out the blood. You’ll probably feel sore until the new tissue settles.”

Another voice cut in from the doorway.

“So it’s enforced bed rest for you Doctor.”

McCoy looked across to see Jim Kirk beaming at him.

“That isn’t your decision to make,” McCoy retorted.

“It is however mine,” M’Benga pointed out. “You’re confined to that bed for at _least_ another 24 hours. After that I _might_ consider letting you rest in your quarters, if only to keep you from driving all the nurses away.”

M’Benga shared a smile with the captain before leaving the two friends alone.

“So,” Jim began as he took a seat on the edge of McCoy’s bed. “How’re you feeling?”

McCoy eyed him sceptically.

“Like I’ve just had reconstructive surgery after third degree burns,” he replied dourly.

“I know that,” Jim said softly. “I meant about the time away. We never really got the chance to talk before. Spock told me everything that happened down there…”

McCoy let out a defeated sigh.

“I’m sorry Jim.”

“Sorry?” Kirk frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I should never have insisted you let me go. I was only a damned millstone round Spock’s neck the entire time. He couldn’t sleep in case that cursed cloud creature turned up, drawn by my stupid human blood… I’d forgotten my Retinax so I couldn’t even offer medical aid… then I went and got myself burned so I was even more of a liability…”

“You were worried about him,” Jim interrupted carefully. “You didn’t want him to go alone. You wanted to keep him company at least.”

McCoy shook his head in disappointment.

“I never expected anything from this mission… you know that… I didn’t expect to romance him or anything corny like that. But I did think I might show him I wasn’t quite useless… that I wasn’t the waste of space he always thinks I am… Guess maybe he wasn’t so far from the mark after all.”

Jim opened his mouth to try and say something comforting when he was beaten to it by a new voice.

“I would indeed be quite far from the mark… if I had ever truly held that view at all.”

Spock stepped up to the side of the bed, nodding briefly to Jim but focused primarily on McCoy.

McCoy blushed under the scrutiny and Jim decided the best course of action was a retreat.

“I’ll just leave you two to… debrief,” he offered before marching out the door.

The silence went on a little too long for McCoy’s comfort.

“Just how much of that did you hear?” he asked finally.

“I confess I heard the entirety. Doctor… do you know why I objected to your accompanying me on this mission?”

McCoy looked up in honest confusion.

“Because you thought I’d be a hindrance.”

“That was the reason I gave the captain yet it was not why I truly did not want you to come with me.”

McCoy arched an eyebrow in query and Spock continued.

“I did not want you to come to harm. It seems my concern was justified.”

McCoy flushed again and darted his eyes away.

“Yeah. That just proves my point though doesn’t it? I was nothing but a liability to you.”

“On the contrary.” Spock laid a hand on the biobed near to but not touching McCoy’s. “If you had not been with me I should not have checked the granary. Consequently I should not have discovered the fate of the people there. Also, I would have been unable to ride on to the next encampment since – even if I had managed to secure a saddle – I should undoubtedly have injured myself before reaching my destination. And having thus injured myself I would not have had the ability to heal it.”

McCoy kept his eyes fixed on the temptation of Spock’s hand so close to his. But he wouldn’t reach for it.

“Don’t change the fact that you had to protect me from that cloud monster. Wouldn’t have been a problem on your own.”

“Indeed it would not,” Spock agreed, taking the next step and resting his hand atop McCoy’s. “However I found that situation quite beneficial.”

“Beneficial?” McCoy was amazed he was still able to vocalise with Spock’s hand tenderly resting on his. “How so?”

“It allowed me an opportunity to demonstrate care for you, Leonard. You make it very difficult for people to show you affection. On board ship you are very remiss in caring for yourself but never accept help from anyone, especially from myself.”

“Never knew you wanted to demonstrate affection.” McCoy couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at his lips.

“I was never certain how such an overture would be received.” He ran his fingers over the doctors a moment. “May I enquire if such an approach would be acceptable?”

“Well…” McCoy found himself hesitating. He wanted Spock – he could hardly deny that – but he was still unsure what he could offer the Vulcan. “I’m not going to be up for much for a few days,” he hedged.

“Then now is precisely when you shall require additional attention,” Spock decided.

McCoy blushed.

“You don’t have to do that…” he began evasively.

“Leonard,” Spock spoke resolutely. “I should be honoured if you would allow me to tend to you.”

“Honoured?”

“Indeed. As I stated before, you allow so few people to aid you. I should prefer to count myself amongst them. Foremost amongst them if you would allow it.”

McCoy was distracted once again by Spock’s fingers caressing his.

“I just don’t know what you expect to get from this Spock,” he flustered. “Why would you possibly want to spend more time with me?”

“I expect to be constantly fascinated,” Spock replied honestly. “I expect to be challenged yet cared for. I expect loyal companionship. I expect…” But here Spock himself flushed and averted his eyes before continuing. “You are an emotional, passionate man, Leonard. I do not know that I…”

As Spock began to withdraw his hand, it suddenly occurred to the doctor that Spock was unsure about what he could offer _him_. He quickly reached out to place his hand atop Spock’s before it could withdraw completely.

“I’ll make a deal with you Spock,” he suggested quickly, before he could lose his nerve. “I reckon we could each bring something unique to this… relationship.” He had to swallow before he could voice that and he felt his courage fading fast. “I can certainly teach you about human emotions if you’ll be my voice of reason. My calm in the eye of the storm.”

He risked looking up straight into Spock’s eyes and saw something to melt his heart.

“I will accept that bargain. And I am certain we will find other areas of collaboration.”

“Collaboration!” McCoy huffed, mostly to try and hide his growing delight.

“Are not relationships a form of collaboration?” Spock retorted. “They require co-operation to be successful.”

McCoy graced him with a genuine smile.

“I want that,” he admitted.

“As do I,” Spock agreed, allowing their hands to caress a moment longer before drawing back and attempting to regain his professional demeanour.

“However, may I suggest we now follow the captain’s suggestion and debrief?”

McCoy barked a laugh, full of relief and joy at their new relationship.

“You’re forward aren’t you? Not ‘til the third date darlin’.”

It took Spock a moment to understand his unwitting double entendre and then his eyebrows rocketed upwards.

“I did not mean-” he began but McCoy waved his explanation away.

“I know, I know. I’m just… happy, Spock.” He smiled warmly at the Vulcan, for once completely free to show his real feelings.

“You are incorrigible,” Spock countered.

McCoy gave a shrug as he replied, “I’ve been called worse,” but promptly regretted the move as it pulled his tender muscles.

Spock instantly moved to assist him in laying back.

“You should rest further,” he instructed. “It would be inadvisable to hinder your recovery when the… post mission evaluation may wait another day.”

McCoy let Spock settle him on the biobed but caught his wrist before the Vulcan could pull away completely.

“You’ll come back after your shift won’t you?”

“If you desire it.”

McCoy nodded at that, not quite trusting his voice. Spock gave a brief nod in return and made to leave. Before he was quite out the door though, McCoy found his voice again.

“I love you.”

Spock stopped and turned. For one horrible moment, McCoy thought he’d said too much too soon. But then Spock moved back to his bedside and laid his fingertips delicately against McCoy’s cheek.

“And I cherish thee, Leonard.”

It could have been a second or a lifetime conveyed in that touch before Spock again stepped away.

“Until this evening,” he promised before moving once more to leave. This time it was he who hesitated in the doorway.

“Perhaps we might consider tonight our first date?” he suggested, glancing back at the relaxed doctor.

“Only if you bring dinner,” McCoy declared. “With proper food! Not reconstituted.”

The Vulcan gave him an almost fond look.

“I believe that can be arranged.”


	9. Vacation Site Anticipation

The away mission was the very day after McCoy had been released to rest in his quarters and Spock had argued against the doctor’s inclusion. He was however severely outnumbered.

Jim argued that the planet was perfectly peaceful, with well-established scientific studies that would appeal to Bones’ incurable curiosity. Not to mention the resident scientists had requested him specifically.

M’Benga argued that the fresh air and restricted exercise would be far more beneficial to Leonard’s physical and mental health than being confined to the ship. He kept quiet about the fact that off ship Leonard would be unable to flout instructions and return to work in sickbay.

And McCoy argued quite simply that if Spock was going then so was he.

And that was final.

In actual fact the trip turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. The scientists were studying the basic chemical reactions that preceded the appearance of life. It was a subject upon which both Spock and McCoy were well versed and Spock found himself in the privileged position of arguing the doctor’s side to the scientists.

Jim watched in affectionate amusement as his First Officer and CMO double teamed against the resident researchers to deconstruct their long thought out theories.

He interrupted before any metaphorical fur flew and insisted his friends accompany him to scout out local resources. So it was after a satisfying day that the three came to a halt in a clearing on a promontory overlooking a lush valley.

“It looks like there could be rich deposits down that way,” Jim commented in relaxed tone.

“Indeed,” Spock agreed, eyeing the landscape. “I’d suggest sending two teams along tomorrow to investigate.”

They fell silent a moment before Bones let out a sigh.

“Pity to leave. Beautiful place this.”

Spock glanced at him and then over to Jim.

“Captain? Permission to camp overnight on the planet surface?”

McCoy looked wide eyed from the Vulcan to Jim. Jim was smiling the smile of someone in on the joke.

“Permission granted Mister Spock,” he replied formally before flipping open his communicator. “Mister Scott, please send down the prepared supplies.”

McCoy spun on Spock.

“You planned this!” he accused. Spock arched an eyebrow at the accusatory tone.

“Naturally. When I realised we would be remaining in orbit overnight it seemed logical to take advantage of the situation to create a memorable scenario for our third date.”

McCoy blushed and refused to look Jim’s way. He instead focused on the gear materialising a few feet away.

“And just where did you learn to camp?” His voice came out gruffer than expected, and he knew the question was ridiculous – of course Spock knew – but he couldn’t say what he wanted in front of Jim.

“Starfleet training incorporates survival skills such as setting up a camp. The captain did however offer some additional suggestions that he assures me will enhance the experience.”

Jim suddenly developed a cough and McCoy glared at him. He didn’t know why yet but he felt sure Jim had done something to deserve it.

“Well,” Jim grinned widely. “I’ll just leave you lovebirds alone. Mister Scott, one to beam up.”

As the shimmer of the transporter faded McCoy turned and wrapped his arms around the Vulcan.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“You are quite welcome,” Spock responded, returning the embrace very gently, still cautious of the doctor’s healed back.

When they stepped apart it was with a slight sense of awkwardness. This was in fact the first time they’d been truly alone since starting their relationship.

Their first date had been a picnic in sickbay. And while M’Benga and the nurses had given them privacy, it was hardly private. The second date had occurred once McCoy had been released and Spock had accompanied him to the messhall. It was too late to be a lunch and too early for dinner so McCoy had decided it was their second date. It had been strange to sit together with no other purpose than to spend time together.

Strange but in no way unenjoyable.

And now they were spending a night alone on a planet. It was a bit of a leap if McCoy was honest and he was nervous.

Thankfully, setting up camp gave them something to occupy themselves with and they traded thoughts and suggestions that turned easily into familiar bickering. By the time the tent was prepared, the fire lit and food was cooking, they were both much more relaxed.

“You didn’t bring any whiskey did you?” McCoy asked as he settled himself on the log rolled close to the fire.

“I did not. I did not believe it would be necessary.”

McCoy recognised the Vulcan’s usual disdain for alcohol and chose to forego that particular argument for another time. He smiled as Spock handed him a plateful of whatever the Vulcan had been cooking.

“Smells good,” he complimented before asking, “What is it?”

“T’mirak,” Spock responded, sitting alongside the doctor. “It is similar to risotto.”

McCoy took a mouthful and had to agree it was good.

From where they sat they could see the stars as they began to come out.

“I used to dream about visiting the stars,” McCoy commented wistfully.

“Does the reality not meet with your expectations?”

McCoy shrugged.

“Sometimes. It’s just… when I was young, I never expected to see so much death…” He shuddered as the memory of Barradas III returned to him.

“Death is an unavoidable consequence of life,” Spock spoke softly. “Yet it should not detract from the enjoyment of living.”

McCoy’s smile returned and he turned to look at the Vulcan.

“Enjoyment Spock? I didn’t think Vulcans did enjoyment.”

“I am half-human Doctor.” Spock’s eyes showed a hint of amusement. “I have found there are many things that provide enjoyment.”

McCoy felt his breath catch.

“Got any examples?”

Spock held his eyes and replied, “You, Doctor, are a prime example.”

“An example am I now?” he teased, considerably pleased with the response.

Spock silently extended his fingers for McCoy.

This was something Spock had shown him on their second date and McCoy didn’t hesitate now to brush those fingers with his own.

As they broke the brief contact McCoy cleared his throat.

“So… what did you have planned now?”

Spock reached down beside him and picked up a canister. McCoy watched curiously as he opened it and pulled out two skewers followed by…

“And now Doctor,” he said handing one over. “We toast marsh melons.”

“Marsh _what_?” McCoy exclaimed with a delighted grin.

“Marsh melons,” Spock repeated seriously. “The captain assured me such an activity was traditional. As was singing camp songs such as-”

“Spock,” McCoy interrupted hastily, not wanting to know what songs Jim may have suggested. He hesitated though as he saw Spock’s slightly bewildered look. “That’s perfect, thank you,” he finished, wrapping one arm around Spock’s.

He leant contentedly against Spock as they toasted marshmallows and watched the sky darkening.

Without really thinking about it, McCoy began to sing softly.

“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.”

He was comfortably relaxed against the Vulcan when he felt Spock shift to look at him.

“Leonard.” Spock’s voice sounded very serious. “Life is _not_ a dream.”

McCoy stared up at him with a peaceful smile.

“It’s a dream come true darlin’,” he murmured before leaning up to press soft lips together.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Aren't Wanted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176548) by [StellarLibraryLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady)




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